


Tea on the Kitchen Floor

by My_Barbaric_Yawp



Series: Love in the Strangest Places [1]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Barbaric_Yawp/pseuds/My_Barbaric_Yawp
Summary: A vignette of the morning after the finale in Paris.  Wolfgang's useless; Kala's asleep, and Rajan's falling in love all over again.





	Tea on the Kitchen Floor

A crash in the kitchen startles him awake, and he's upright in seconds—breathing fast and deep and waiting for the next threat. They've been living on edge for so long—and he still doesn't know what to do with the gun on the bedside table—but there's a lazy hand trailing down the back of his neck, and he thinks everything might actually be okay this time. Kala snorts and rolls over, hiding her eyes from the sun.

She's bed tousled and catlike, arching into his palm on her lower back, but the other side of their bed is empty, and he’s surprised to feel the absence already.

“Kitchen,” Kala mutters. “He has no idea how to make tea.”

Wolfgang is cursing in German when he gets to the kitchen. He knows just enough about the man and his tone to guess the phrasing is colorful and inventively profane.

“Trouble?”

Wolfgang, the weapons expert with the grace of a Bengal tiger, startles and drops the teapot on his foot, slipping in the spilled tea and hitting the ground with another curse.

“This fucking thing.” He pushes the pot away with a delicate toe and slides a little further across the tile. “This fucking floor. We’re going to need some fucking traction in here.”

Rajan’s laughter starts in his stomach and blooms upward into his spine and lungs until he's on the ground, too, gasping against a cabinet while Wolfgang glares at him under his fringe.

“What's so funny?” He asks, but he's starting to smile, too—that precious small quirk of his that's been so hard won.

“You,” Rajan gasps between laughter that's quickly becoming a giggle. “Palace full of mercenaries, no problem. But teapots? Gods forbid.

Wolfgang is grinning now, too, leaning against the stove opposite, and Rajan realizes they're both naked and sitting on the kitchen floor.

“I'm just feeling loose and clumsy—”

“And sore?”

There's that little smirk again. He might as well be patting the tile next to him. “How did you know?”

“Because I'm sore, too, hotshot. You two are a lot to keep up with.”

Wolfgang sobers a bit. “Well, at least you'll never be bored,” he offers, eyes steady on his—calm and so, so deep.

Rajan shivers a little against the tile. He still can’t quite fathom how this man rocket launched his way into their marriage, but he knows he’s lucky to be the one who gets to figure it out. Who wouldn't want to love this man?

“Is there tea?” Kala asks from the doorway, tugging at her babydoll nightie with one hand and pushing a mass of curls out of her face with the other. “Are we eating breakfast on the floor now?”

Rajan grins and drinks them both in. “Fuck the tea. Let's go back to bed.”

“Who needs a bed?” asks Wolfgang, and then the questions stop.


End file.
